


War Brides

by MaryRoyale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Idiots in Love, Marriage of Convenience, Slytherins Being Slytherins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:55:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29422662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryRoyale/pseuds/MaryRoyale
Summary: During the Second Wizarding War, Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode married one another for their mutual safety. Being married to one of your best friends is fine. Great even. So maybe Millicent was madly in love with Daphne, but she wasn't going to *tell* Daphne that. That would be ridiculous.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley, Millicent Bulstrode/Daphne Greengrass
Comments: 12
Kudos: 51
Collections: Love Fest 2021





	War Brides

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhimsyAndMalice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsyAndMalice/gifts).



> I'm an absolute sucker for marriages of convenience/arranged marriage for the pining factor. So when I saw WhimsyandMalice's prompt for Love Fest 2021... I was all over that. 
> 
> WhimsyandMalice's prompt: 
> 
> Daphne/Millicent  
> Marriage of convenience
> 
> #teamVenus  
> I am 100% on the informed and blatant consent train. So please know that our ladies came up with the marriage of convenience themselves. They chose the bonding ceremony and everything. They did this to themselves. On purpose.

Everyone assumed that Slytherin was fine. The Death Eaters had been on their side, right? So, everything had been absolutely _fine_ if you were Slytherin. If you were a wizard and a Slytherin, then you must be a Death Eater—even if you had been a First Year during that horrible year. If you were a witch… well. Then you were a Death Eater’s whore. Even if you were very obviously married to another witch. Even if no one had ever touched you like that ever, you were still a whore.

“Death Eater’s whore.”

The number of times that Millicent had heard that hissed behind her back, or hell, even to her face, was innumerable. At this point, she just ignored it. It barely registered on her radar anymore.

“I beg your pardon?” Hermione Granger turned around, her expression cold and haughty as she frowned at the wizard… the boy, really, standing behind them. The boy blinked at Hermione, confused, and Millicent fought the urge to snort in amusement.

“Not _you_ ,” the boy protested and flushed darkly.

“He means me,” Millicent sighed. Hermione arched an eyebrow and frowned at the boy, quite clearly deciding that he was an idiot.

“She’s married to Daphne Greengrass,” Hermione stated in a flat voice. She squinted slightly at the boy in front of them. “Everyone knows that. Everyone also knows that the Greengrass family was neutral.” She paused deliberately and leaned forward. She spoke slowly and carefully. “Being neutral means that they didn’t choose a side. It means that Daphne Greengrass was not a Death Eater.”

The boy flushed a red so dark that it was almost purple. Hermione didn’t smirk like Pansy would have done. She didn’t toss her hair the way Daphne would have done. She didn’t try to look bored, the way Tracey used to do. No, Hermione kept her focus on the boy who now refused to make eye contact with either one of them.

“Granger?” Draco Malfoy drawled her name, appearing near them with a frown.

“Mione,” Ronald Weasley trailed after Draco, frowning at the scene in front of him before focusing solely on Hermione. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Ron,” Hermione replied calmly. “Why don’t you and Malfoy take Millie to the restaurant. I’ll join you in just a moment.”

Automatically, Draco moved to Millicent’s side and offered her his arm. Weasley didn’t move. Instead, he focused on the boy who was still flushed red. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at the boy.

“What did he do?” Weasley demanded.

“Nothing at all, Ron,” Hermione turned to Ron and smiled brightly at him. “I won’t be a moment, truly. Don’t worry about me.”

“You promised Harry that you were going to stop making people cry in the middle of Diagon Alley,” Weasley huffed at her.

“Harry will forgive me this one,” Hermione said, her smile not wavering at all. The boy in front of them paled slightly.

“Hermione,” Weasley fussed at her. Hermione sighed heavily.

“Fine,” she snapped. She focused on the boy again. “What’s your name?”

“Hermione, no,” Weasley protested. He grabbed her arm and started to drag her away. “Whatever he’s done, he’s an idiot kid, not Rita Skeeter.”

Millicent and Draco trailed after them, leaving the boy behind them.

“Are you dating Granger or something?” Draco asked quietly, eyeing Millicent curiously.

“No,” Millicent replied rolling her eyes.

“She’s going to hunt that kid down later and ruin his entire life,” Draco muttered.

“I got that impression,” Millicent muttered back.

“Are you sure that you’re not dating her?” Draco asked. “She normally doesn’t get like this unless it’s Ron or Potter. And she called you Millie. I’ve been married to Ron for three years and I’m still Malfoy.”

“I think I would know if I were dating Hermione Granger, Draco,” Millicent huffed and rolled her eyes.

“Is Daphne still dating that friend of Blaise’s?” Draco asked with a little frown as he towed her along.

“The one from Tunis or the one from Florence?” Millicent countered, arching an eyebrow at Draco. He grimaced at her.

“She was dating both of them?” Draco guessed. Millicent shrugged helplessly.

“I think so, but we don’t really talk about that,” Millicent admitted.

“Merlin’s beard, Mills,” Draco protested half under his breath.

It was an old argument and Millicent sighed and shrugged again. When she had been a half-blood Slytherin trapped in a school filled with Death Eaters, marrying Daphne Greengrass had seemed the safest possible course of action. They were both members of neutral families and their marriage to one another meant that they couldn’t be forced to align with openly Death Eater families. It had insulated and protected them during the year from hell, even if the wild rumours about married student housing were exactly that.

Five years later, and Millicent was still technically married to Daphne Greengrass because they had chosen the most failsafe bonding method they could find. Letting Voldemort find a way to break their bonding had _not_ been an option. When they’d originally gotten married, Daphne had been dating Theo Nott. As far as Millicent knew, they had continued to date throughout the rest of the school year. Which was fine. Really it was. It wasn’t as though Millicent was pining after Daphne or anything. That would be silly. They were just friends. Married friends.

They shared the same house, a cute little townhouse that Daddy and Mr Greengrass had insisted on buying for Millicent and Daphne after the war was over. Most days Millicent saw Daphne at breakfast and at dinner. They were still friends, still close, but they weren’t anything more than that. They had separate bedrooms. As far as she knew, Daphne had never brought anyone into their home.

“Daphne’s always… discreet,” Millicent sighed. “And I… I’m grateful for that.”

“Discreet. Right.” Draco blew out a breath and opened the door to the restaurant for her.

By the time that Hermione and Ron joined them at the table, Millicent was perusing the menu and trying to decide between daily special and some kind of salad that sounded vaguely ominous.

“Do I want slivers of fennel in my salad?” She asked Draco with a suspicious frown at the menu.

“Tastes a bit like liquorice,” Draco muttered absently as he scanned the menu. “Crunchy if it’s raw fennel.”

“Ugh,” Millicent groaned and wrinkled her nose. “I hate liquorice.”

“Then don’t get the fennel,” Draco drawled.

“How often does that happen?” Hermione asked with a small frown. Millicent shrugged.

“I don’t know,” Millicent admitted. “Every now and then?”

“Does Daphne know about that?” Hermione pressed.

“Of course, she knows,” Millicent scoffed and rolled her eyes. Hermione went still and her frown deepened.

“Because it’s happened to her, too,” Hermione said flatly.

“Sometimes.” Millicent took a sip of her water and avoided eye contact with everyone at her table. She set down the glass and focused on Hermione, taking a deep breath before she spoke. “Look… why do you even care?”

“Daphne is my friend,” Hermione said stiffly. She fiddled with the napkin in her lap. “She was nice to me when I transferred to the DMLE. We go out for lunch sometimes and she… look. She… she talks about you all the time, did you know?”

“What?” Millicent stared at Hermione with wide eyes.

“She’s utterly ridiculous about anything to do with you,” Hermione continued, oblivious to increasing tension at the table. “I know that she would have been upset on your behalf and I was just so _angry_. It’s not right for them to treat you like that.”

“It is what it is,” Millicent muttered, trying to ignore the part where Hermione Granger was apparently best friends with her wife… her wife who was madly in love with her, according to that same Hermione Granger.

“Are you telling me that you and Greengrass go out to lunch and she spends the entire time telling you how pretty she thinks Millie’s eyes are?” Draco demanded incredulously. He picked up his wine glass and took a healthy swallow.

“Well.” Hermione Granger flushed and shrugged. “She mostly waxes poetic about how incredible she thinks Millie’s arse is and how she’d willingly die between her thighs...”

This was _not_ happening. This was a waking dream. Or… or… Millicent faltered when she realized that there was no real explanation for any of this. Except that maybe Daphne wanted Millicent the same way she wanted Daphne. Millicent chewed on her lower lip for a minute.

“Are you sure?” Millicent demanded.

“That Daphne is in love with your biteable arse, yes, yes I am,” Hermione said drily.

“Bloody hell,” Draco said slowly. He turned to stare at Millicent. “ _Bloody hell_.”

“It’s not like she told me,” Millicent hissed at him.

“What are you talking about?” Hermione huffed.

Tossing the napkin on the table, Millicent stood up from the table. She stared at Draco and he stared back up at her with wide eyes.

“I have to go.” Millicent wrung her hands together and bit her lip.

“You should go,” Draco agreed.

“What’s happening?” Ron asked with a worried frown. “You all right there, Millie?”

“I…” Millicent trailed off and turned to Draco.

“She’ll be fine,” Draco said with a slight smile. “Go on, love.”

* * *

The house was still empty, which was only to be expected. Daphne was working on a project and wouldn’t even be home until this evening. Millicent chewed on her lower lip and tried to process.

Daphne wouldn’t shut up about her. Daphne talked about her arse to Hermione Granger… who seemed convinced that Daphne was in love with Millicent. Millicent sat down hard on the floor and stared unseeing at a painting that Pansy had given to them as a housewarming gift. Daphne was in love with her. Daphne, the woman that she had been in love with since she was sixteen, loved her back.

How do you tell your wife that you know that she loves you? And that you love her, too?

Four hours later, Millicent was standing in the middle of her closet with her hands on her hips. She’d pulled on a pair of old jeans that hugged her arse and made it look fantastic. She’d also pulled on a black tank top. Now she was standing barefoot in her closet, her hair loose around her shoulders, glaring at her clothes.

If Daphne loved her, and she loved Daphne, then… they should share a room, right? That was normal—for wives to share a bedroom—wasn’t it? So maybe Millicent should pack up her closet and move her things into Daphne’s room? So that she could show Daphne that she was serious.

Would that be weird? Maybe it would be weird to just _move_ all her things into Daphne’s room without even talking to her about it. It was probably weird.

“What are you doing?”

Whirling about, Millicent turned around to see Daphne standing in her doorway. She was watching Millicent with a small smile, her face open and soft. Millicent had always assumed that Daphne relaxed around her because they were friends. Her heart clenched in her chest.

“I was thinking about whether or not I should move out of this bedroom,” Millicent said absently.

The change was immediate. Daphne’s spine stiffened and her face went blank.

“What?” Daphne’s voice rose shrilly, and she had wrapped her arms around herself. “You’re moving out?”

“What?” Millicent echoed her, frowning. “Why would I move out?”

“You… you just said that…” Daphne waved a hand in the air and blinked rapidly.

“Are you crying?” Millicent demanded, taking a step towards Daphne who immediately held up both hands outstretched in front her.

“What? No,” Daphne scoffed and tried to surreptitiously rub a hand against her face.

“You are crying,” Millicent protested and took another step closer to Daphne. “Did something happen at work?”

“You’re leaving me!” Daphne’s breath hitched in her throat and her cheeks turned pink.

“I’m not leaving you,” Millicent protested. She waved a hand at her closet. “I just thought that I—what if I moved into your bedroom? Would you be okay with that?”

“What?” Daphne’s mouth dropped open and she stared at Millicent.

“I love you,” Millicent confessed and then twisted her hands together anxiously.

“ _What_?” Daphne stumbled into Millicent’s room; her palms pressed to her cheeks.

“I love you,” Millicent repeated. She flushed and bit her lip. “Rather a lot, actually.” She tugged at the hem of her tank top. “So, I thought that maybe I— _mmph_!”

Daphne slammed into her, knocking her into the door of her closet. Her arms wrapped around Millicent’s neck and she pressed her lips against Millicent’s. Sharp teeth dug into Millicent’s lower lip and she gasped helplessly. A clever tongue eased the pain and Daphne pressed against Millicent, her hands sliding down to cup Millicent’s arse.

“Merlin, I love you,” Daphne groaned against Millicent’s jaw. “You can put your clothes wherever you want. My room, your room, I don’t bloody care.”

“Okay,” Millicent breathed out slowly and cupped Daphne’s face, staring at the wide smile on her wife’s face. She could feel her own lips stretch into a matching smile. “Okay.”


End file.
